En.Citatepedia^®.ro

Oh My Gosh!

Oh my gosh!
Here we are...
Washing,
Clothes.

Oh my gosh!
Here we are...
Nose to nose.
And,
Washing clothes.

Folding the sheets we laid on.
Together you and I...
After a wetness sweated us,
In a rocking that followed with sleep.
To awaken after we slept.
Welcomed by a dawning Sun...
To greet us in the morning,
With a glowing on our faces...
Shown to be done.

And OH my gosh!
Here we are,
Washing clothes.
Nose to nose and folding sheets.

Something tells me,
A togetherness is certain.
Something else tells me...
You will have me ironing the curtains,
If I don't put my foot down...
To speak up to say,
This 'sweetness' I may display today...
Is a rarity witnessed,
You will one day see...
Is not part of my personality.

Like you,
I will not be left impressed.
Just because we had another night...
Of unexpected delicious sex!

'Honey...
I can't believe we've been together,
For more than twenty years! '

I know. I know!
I'll iron those curtains,
When I get back home...
Okay?

'Anything for you, dear.
You know that! '

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Wife's Odyssey

Another five sunsets then comes Friday.
Guess whose home and wants “my way”?
Just clean dirty clothes; tweeze his nose,
And, oh yeah, fine dining I suppose.

It’s a Big Mac, a box by Jack
Or the Colonel’s wings in a greasy sack.
After that it’s to the movies where I can’t hear a word
Because my love keeps asking what was said while cackling like a bird.

Don’t get me wrong. I can endure and have a fun day.
‘Cause with clean clothes, nose and hose, he’s off again Sunday!

poem by Gregory Huyette
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Nose

No one cares for the nose

To go nose straight is the tao

If there were no eyes

You could see better with your nose

If there were no nose

you wouldnot distinguish the sweet from the bitter

And there would be no value judgements in the world

And it is the nose that keeps you hot in the cold

And that keeps you cold in Jakodabad

The nose is the vigilant customs officer

That does not allow any drug to your lungs

And the nose cannot be bribed

Oh Nose! the customs officer of the body

And the pivot of value judgement in the world

If that name thou love

Remain with us and teach the noseless world

That it must have a nose in this wartorn world

He who knows the greatness of nose

Surely goes to the realm of rose

In the life to come

Hurrah Let us compose hymns to nose

poem by Dr. Ramesh Chandra Mukhopadhyaya
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Wife's Life of Strife

Another five sunsets then comes Friday.
Guess whose home and wants "my way"?
Just clean dirty clothes; tweeze his nose,
And, oh yeah, fine dining…I suppose.

It's a Big Mac, a box by Jack
Or the Colonel's wings in a greasy sack.
After that it's to the movies where I can't
hear a word
Because my love keeps asking what was said…
while cackling like a bird.

Don't get me wrong. I can endure and have a
fun day.
‘Cause with clean clothes, nose and hose, he's
off again Sunday!

poem by Gregory Huyette
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Blinking Cold

We all know when winter is about to call
Jack Frost starts pinching
your nose and your toes.
White powder begins to fall
from someone on the roof
shaking it on us all.
The sound of sleigh bells tinkling
tells us Christmas is back again
and we’d better sort out our overdraft
for all those presents we cannot afford.
Oh, yes it’s that time of year.
When you put your clothes on the washing line,
and bringing them back in later,
all starched, ironed and stiff as a board.
The season when we should be
tucked up in a nice warm bed
to see the whole thing through.
The season when your pets hug the fire
and leave you in the cold.
We’ve seen it all,
been down that road before.
Winter is here again,
and ain’t it blinking cold.

poem by David Harris
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Washing Enzymes

Washing enzymes have a job to do
They work for me they work for you
They make our clothes look nice and new
Just chuck them in the wash and press a button or two

They eat the grass, blood and gravy
And make the blues look really navy
They never stop they’re never lazy
They make my clothes as fresh as a daisy

Washing enzymes work night or day
They work when we sleep they work when we play
They work in every possible way
And love their job anyway!

poem by Bianca N/A
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Radio Star

Edwin McCain
Radio Star
And how my dad beat me and how much he drank
Do you think it'll help my records sell
Cause Im the radio star with the cars and the clothes
The fancy guitars and the spoon in my nose
You know in my world now anything goes
You all want to be me, and Ill be gone in a week
Hang out with Britney and Fred Durst
Arrive in a limo, Ill leave in a hearse
And I cant decide now which part is worse
Losing my life to the game, or losing the fortune and fame
Cause Im the radio star with the cars and the clothes
The fancy guitars and the spoon in my nose
You know in my world now anything goes
You all want to be me, and Ill be gone in a week
You put me on TV with all the cool stars
Like Letterman, Conan and Jay
Cause were all experts at the art of PR
And nobody knows that Im gay
Im the radio star with the cars and the clothes
The fancy guitars and the spoon in my nose
You know in my world now anything goes
You all want to be me, and Ill be gone in a week
Im the radio star
Im the radio star
Im the radio star
Im the radio star

song performed by by Edwin McCain
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The washing monster

The washing monster
How it grows
It's fed well
On our dirty clothes

Relentlessly
We do attack
But by the next day
It's grown back

He has a friend
That's equally vile
It calls itself
The ironing pile

poem by Stevie Taite
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Be Glad Your Nose is on Your Face

Be glad your nose is on your face,
not pasted on some other place,
for if it were where it is not,
you might dislike your nose a lot.

Imagine if your precious nose
were sandwiched in between your toes,
that clearly would not be a treat,
for you'd be forced to smell your feet.

Your nose would be a source of dread
were it attached atop your head,
it soon would drive you to despair,
forever tickled by your hair.

Within your ear, your nose would be
an absolute catastrophe,
for when you were obliged to sneeze,
your brain would rattle from the breeze.

Your nose, instead, through thick and thin,
remains between your eyes and chin,
not pasted on some other place--
be glad your nose is on your face!

poem by Jack Prelutsky
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Clothes Line

After a while we took in the clothes,
Nobody said very much.
Just some old wild shirts and a couple pairs of pants
Which nobody really wanted to touch.
Mama come in and picked up a book
An papa asked her what it was.
Someone else asked, what do you care?
Papa said, well, just because.
Then they started to take back their clothes,
Hang em on the line.
It was january the thirtieth
And everybody was feelin fine.
The next day everybody got up
Seein if the clothes were dry.
The dogs were barking, a neighbor passed,
Mama, of course, she said, hi!
Have you heard the news? he said, with a grin,
The vice-presidents gone mad!
Where? downtown. when? last night.
Hmm, say, thats too bad!
Well, theres nothin we can do about it, said the neighbor,
Its just somethin were gonna have to forget.
Yes, I guess so, said ma,
Then she asked me if the clothes was still wet.
I reached up, touched my shirt,
And the neighbor said, are those clothes yours?
I said, some of em, not all of em.
He said, ya always help out around here with the chores?
I said, sometime, not all the time.
Then my neighbor, he blew his nose
Just as papa yelled outside,
Mama wants you t come back in the house and bring them clothes.
Well, I just do what Im told,
So, I did it, of course.
I went back in the house and mama met me
And then I shut all the doors.

song performed by by Bob Dylan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Britches

(words & music by wayne - edwards)
Beware of a gal in britches
Yo-di-o-di-o
Never trust no gal in britches
No-di-o-di-o
If you had a sense of this here horse
You would have known it by now of course
Who wears the britches is the boss
Thats a gal, thats a gal in britches
Dont mess with a gal in britches
Yo-di-o-di-o
No feminine gal wears britches
No-di-o-di-o
Shell beg you to come to the country dance
You ride twenty miles for the big romance
She shows up in her brothers pants
Whatd you expect from a girl in britches
Yo-di-o-di-o-i-ay, its none of my misfortune
Yo-di-o-di-o-di-ay, just thought youd like to know
Dont marry no gal in britches
Yo-di-o-di-o
Youll never know which is whichs
No-di-o-di-o
Shell put a halter through your nose
Have you cooking and washing clothes
While she goes chasing them buffaloes
Bet your boots, thats a gal in britches.

song performed by by Elvis Presley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Inharmonious Harmony

Watch two women washing clothes;
One woman makes dry clothes wet
The other makes wet clothes dry
They seem to work against each other,
But their work is a perfect harmony

(Inspired by the brilliance of Rumi)

ROTMS

poem by Ray Lucero
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Washing Machine Albeit So Weird

I do not trust the long rinse and spin cycle of the
washing machine, loud and insane, scrunch up
the washing, making careful hanging to obviate
ironing impossible; I always interfere in rinsing-
spinning since washing machines have been
designed by demons bent on torturing humans

My distrust of all kinds of machines; except my
adorable laptop who takes every word it is fed
and returns it to me in the script I like; led to my
never using a dishwasher, an evil device that
runs in unfathomable cycles driving me crazy
with uncertainty about objects and motives

And degree of cleanliness; therefore I turn the
kitchen radio to Radio Pretoria (because they
play German music, the bedroom radio stays
tuned to FM Classic, TV alternating between
Nat Geo Wild and Deutsche Welle while the
big screen TV remains on sports channels)

And wash the dishes by hand; - I forgot to
add detergent when washing Tiaan’s dusty
clothes two washes ago, somehow I hold an
irrational belief washing should require little
detergent if any– and the washing machine
did not remind me – hah! – point is

While it is impossible to wash by hand, my
wrists go numb as I scrub and twist - the
washing machine is a strange invention
that refuses to wash in a way I can
understand - but I shall always use
it, albeit so weird…

poem by Margaret Alice Second
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Why Do You Bob Your Nose, Girl ?

(kinky friedman)
Why do you bob your nose, girls, it does not look so nice,
If it' s just to keep in fashion, it's not the lord's advice.
Well, you mangle mother nature and brave the lord's command
You care about your nose, girls, and reach the glory land.
Why do you bob your nose, girls, it's not the thing to do,
Run with that nose and some day the lord may say to you:
You naughty little booger, you honky tonkin' hose
But at least i'm glad for one thing: you'sll never bob your nose.

song performed by by Kinky Friedman
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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There was an Old Man with a nose,
Who said, 'If you choose to suppose,
That my nose is too long,
You are certainly wrong!'
That remarkable Man with a nose.

by Edward Lear from A Book of Nonsense (1846)
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O! What a nose!

People talk about a running nose
I'm talking about a long facial cargo
She’s got a nose longer than my longest toes
With a mission of being nosy as time goes

Please don’t get close
When she discloses
Her loud snoring doze
Don’t be like the heroes

Goodness gracious
O! What a nose!
Goodness gracious
What a precious nose pose!

Painted as red as a romantic rose
Standing long like my garden pipe hose
And as she sniffs, sneezes and exposes
I cannot help thinking of Pinocchio’s nose

Goodness gracious
O! What a nose!
Goodness gracious
Red and long when it snows

And this nose is nosy
She can smell a rat, cat or a bat
When you are getting cozy
In your one bedroom flat

O! What a nose!
In and out juice flows
And when she smells the air
They all cannot help but stare

Copyright 2008 - Sylvia Chidi

poem by Sylvia Chidi
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Tinkering Folding Keeping Scattering

tinkering
it is something that you like
to know what really is there
inside the complications of things

folding
how can you spend so much time
folding clothes
that you never used

and keeping them
again in that closet
that you seldom open
like a party that you tender only once in a year

and scattering
what is it this time that you want to do?
what is it that must take you back
something to do
a reason to live after another tinkering
that have caused you
sorrow

fold them back and keep them
they are useless
and there is a need for you to be open again
breathe some hidden perfume
inside the cabinet of old clothes

come back and tell me
what did you see there?

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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My Nose Is Growing Old

Yup.
A long lazy September look
in the mirror
say it's true.

I'm 31
and my nose is growing
old.

It starts about 1/2
an inch
below the bridge
and strolls geriatrically
down
for another inch or so:
stopping.

Fortunately, the rest
of the nose is comparatively
young.

I wonder if girls
will want me with an
old nose.

I can hear them now
the heartless bitches!

"He's cute
but his nose
is old."

poem by Richard Brautigan
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Jackie

(Sinead O'connor cover )
Jackie left on a cold, dark night
Telling me he'd be home
Sailed the seas for a hundred years
And left me all alone
Now I've been dead for twenty years
I've been washing the sand with my ghostly tears
Searching the shores for my Jackie-oh
And I remember the day that the young man came
Said, your Jackie's gone, he is lost in the rain
And I ran to the beach
And laid me down
You're all wrong, I said
And they stared to the sand
That man knows the sea like the back of his hand
He'll be back some time
Laughing at you
And I've been waiting all this time
For my man to come, take his hand in mine
And lead me away
To unsailed shores
I've been washing the sand with my salty tears
Searching the shore these long years
And I'll walk the sea forever more
'til I find my Jackie-oh
Jackie-oh
Jackie-oh
Jackie-oh

song performed by by Placebo
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Eastern Rain

Rain comes from the east one night
We watch it come
To hang like beaded curtains
Till the morning sun
Water dripping from our clothes
You with raindrops on your nose
Ask me sadly please dont go away now.
Till the rain is done, I say
Ill stay now.
Rain outside but inside we dont mind at all
Shadows by the fire slowly climb and fall
Kisses fade and leave no trace
Whispers vanish into space
The dawn will send me on a chase to nowhere
Why cry as if I were the first to go there
And I know I shouldnt be here
Yes, I know I should go home
But that eastern rain drones in my brain
And Im so all alone, so all alone
Morning comes up from the east
We watch it come
And far away now rolls the ancient rain gods drum
You with daybreak in your eyes
Afraid to speak for telling lies
I watch you search for some reply to lend me
But when the rain is done
Theres no pretending
And I know I shouldnt be here
Yes, I know I should go home
But that eastern rain drones in my brain
And Im so all alone, so all alone

song performed by by Joni Mitchell
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Hot and Cold

A woman who my mother knows
Came in and took off all her clothes.

Said I, not being very old,
'By golly gosh, you must be cold!'

'No, no!' she cried. 'Indeed I'm not!
I'm feeling devilishly hot!'

poem by Roald Dahl
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